The Price of Love
by ToothFairy
Summary: In the aftermath of Day 7, Jack Bauer watches the man he once knew and tries to make sense out of everything that's happened. Jack's POV but very much a Tony/Michelle story. One-shot.


_So this is slightly AU in the sense that I couldn't find a way to incorporate the aftermath of Jack's exposure in season 7, so I just completely ignored this fact. Or maybe we could all pretend it only took him a few days to get back on his feet? :) _

_I also wanted to mention that I started writing this fic years before season 7 even started, but I got stuck and had long given up on it when I accidentally came across it some weeks ago. Having seen s7, it gave me new inspiration… and after a lot of moving things around, changing details and filling in the gaps, this is what I came up with. I hope it's okay._

Jack Bauer could hardly believe his eyes. On the other side of the glass sat the man who had once been the closest thing he had to a friend – still and unmoving. His expression was blank, his eyes empty. Just like they had been ever since they'd been reacquainted, Jack realized now, only he'd been too much in denial to see the danger behind his friend's stoic appearance. The façade had only broken once, in that one moment where he'd faced his wife's killer – and only then had Jack recognized it had been a mere way for Tony to make it through the day. Through every day for the last four years.

Tony's hands were handcuffed, resting on the table in front of him. Those hands had been handcuffed once before, years ago. They had held a gun to his face. They had smoothed auburn curls away from dark eyes, revealing soft white skin. They had – though Jack had never witnessed it – undoubtedly brushed across a still flat stomach, underneath which new life grew.

Jack would never forget the day he met Michelle Dessler. He found it more than a little ironic that unlike her husband, unlike Chloe and unlike his latest ally, Renee Walker, Michelle hadn't needed the slightest bit of convincing to go along with his schemes. Always objective, always looking ahead – he'd yet to meet someone who was better and faster than her at seeing the bigger picture.

He'd always been happy for them, admired them for successfully combining the job with an obviously warm, steady and loving relationship. But, if he is honest with himself, he has to admit that there had also been flashes of jealousy, resentment even. How was it fair that they could have it all while all he could do was stand by helplessly and watch his own life fall apart piece by piece?

He vividly remembered one occasion, shortly after they got married. It had been a slow day at CTU, and he had been on his way to the men's room when he suddenly heard soft voices and muffled laughter. He quietly moved closer and found the two of them huddled together, smiling and oblivious to his lurking presence around the corner. Tony had his arms around her and was speaking very softly to her with mischief clearly visible in his dark eyes, obviously teasing her. When she opened her mouth to retort, he quickly pulled her in for a nice, long kiss, and Jack turned away, feeling irritation and annoyance creep up his throat.

This was a workplace, for God's sake. They were supposed to do this at home, not here, and certainly not where anyone could see them. Hadn't Chappelle or Hammond or anyone warned them about this?

But when he took a moment to think rationally, he realized he was being an asshole. They were married, they were in love, and today was one of the few days they actually had some time to spend together, even if it was just quick whispers and stolen kisses in a dark hallway. He remembered how it felt to grasp every minute you could get.

So he had walked away without saying anything.

It was hard watching them get engaged and get married when his own relationship with Kate was going downhill with a speed that was truly frightening, even to him. He knew this was his own fault – both for being unable to love her properly and for not having the guts to tell her.

He had once believed Tony had been almost as messed up at the hands of Nina Myers as he was. Watching him with his wife, Jack knew this was not true. Tony had still had the strength to fight it, conquer it, which was something Jack knew he was nowhere near able to do. And watching his friend's happiness as a result of this strength left him with a bitter feeling of betrayal and utter loneliness, as much as he hated his own selfishness.

Seeing them together in their home was somehow, inexplicably, easier. There was still a longing, but it wasn't accompanied by that irrational jealousy that plagued him when he saw them together at the office. He remembered dropping by their house one evening after work. It was late and they had been home for a few hours already, but he had stayed at the office longer than he had to, undoubtedly throwing himself in his work to avoid having to face the disaster his personal life had become.

Tony had opened the door, and seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt immediately made Jack feel guilty for disturbing their free time. He quickly explained that he needed to go over something for Chappelle by tomorrow, and Tony scratched the side of his face and reluctantly stepped aside to let him in.

"Listen, why don't we go into the study," Tony suggested, speaking quietly as he led Jack through the hall, "Michelle's asleep in the den, I don't want to wake her."

And sure enough, when they passed through the living room Jack could see his colleague's small, female frame resting on the couch. He studied her for a moment as Tony went to get beers from the fridge. She was lying on her back with her head slightly to one side and the back of her fingers touching her cheek. A blanket covered the lower half of her body, revealing a dark blue sweater that – judging by both the size and the Cubs logo on the front – was most likely Tony's. Dark eyelashes covered pale skin, and a stray curl had made its way across her forehead.

Jack turned away, disgusted with his own desire to brush it away. Horrified that he had wished, just for a moment, that she was _his_ wife.

The two men made their way to the study, where they worked together for almost an hour before light footsteps could be heard in the hall. A sleepy looking Michelle knocked on the open door before entering, smiled tiredly and said, "Oh, hi Jack."

He mumbled a greeting in return, dreading the moment when she would ask what they were doing and he would have to explain to her that he had disturbed their peace and quiet with work obligations at ten-thirty at night.

But the question never came; she just went over to stand beside them, looking over her husband's shoulder at what he was doing on the computer. After a moment she reached for the half empty beer bottle resting next to his hand and murmured softly, "Is this yours?"

Tony nodded absentmindedly, and she brought the bottle to hers lips and took a sip. She continued to watch what he was doing, sometimes commenting, and Jack noticed how she gently leaned against Tony's shoulder – such a subtle sign of intimacy and yet one Jack knew she would never risk around the CTU bullpen.

After a while Tony looked up at her and suggested softly, "Why don't ya pull up a chair?"

She briefly looked around the room and, seeing that there were no chairs, simply shrugged and said, "It's okay, I'll just stand."

Tony looked at her for a moment, then stole a quick glance at Jack before turning back to the computer, and Jack had the feeling he wouldn't have hesitated to take her into his lap if not for his own presence.

Jack had cleared his throat and stood. "I should go. We can finish the rest first thing in the morning."

They both had the grace to protest and insist they complete the work now, but Jack put his foot down. His own unease aside, he knew it wasn't fair to take up any more of their time because he was afraid to go home and face Kate.

When Tony was arrested for treason, he half expected Michelle to fall to pieces like card tower. She didn't. She faded away in a very non-literal sense of the word, she lost the twinkle in her eye, she avoided all human contact like it was the plague – but she never once fell apart. It made him wonder how Tony could stand to be with someone like her. How he didn't feel weak in comparison.

He remembered standing there with her the day Tony was released from prison, the fifteen-minute wait for the paper work to be completed worse than a physical beating. He remembered watching her.

She had looked pale, even paler than usual, and clothes that had been previously filled with flesh now hung from her body like trash bags. She'd been uncharacteristically agitated, fidgety – he couldn't get her to sit down no matter what he tried, and he hadn't failed to notice she couldn't seem to stop neurotically twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

"I keep waiting for something to go wrong," she finally told him, "I keep waiting for them to tell me he's not coming home after all."

When the doors opened, she froze, just for a second. Then she turned and caught sight of the man stumbling in the room, between guards but no longer in handcuffs. He looked, if possible, worse than she did. His hair was cut short, making the both old and new bruises seem even more prominent somehow. He too had lost a considerable amount of weight it seemed, and there was a haunted look in his eyes that chilled Jack to the bone.

She didn't go to him. It was almost as if she couldn't. Tony, sensing this, hesitated, stopped dead in his tracks, and Jack felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up at the way they regarded each other. Almost like strangers – yet, with a hidden familiarity that could only mean they were once lovers.

Then a strangled sound escaped Michelle's throat, and she leaped forward. He was there to catch her, staggering backwards from the force with which their bodies collided. He enveloped her, lifting her slightly off the ground. He could have blinked away tears, but Jack couldn't be sure.

She pulled back after a moment, seemingly desperate to take a good look at him, and his hand automatically started pushing locks of curls away from her snow white face.

"How you doin'?" Jack heard him whisper, and Michelle just kissed him in response, tangling her fingers in his too short hair.

Jack turned away.

He'd thought they would make it then. He'd thought they'd be okay, despite the look he'd seen in Tony's eyes, despite the tightness in his shoulders that Jack could always identify in a heartbeat in someone who'd been on the inside. An ex-con.

But Tony had been far more damaged than anyone had realized (_Just like now_, he thought ironically). He'd built a wall around him that even the woman who'd already saved him from loneliness once, could not break down. She'd tried, Jack knew. By God, how she'd tried. The calm, rational colleague he'd always known had fought with a passion he never knew she had in her, a passion that – he realized later – only her husband brought alive. She fought and she fought and she fought, until she couldn't anymore.

The wall around Tony did not break. She did instead. He saw it when he ran into her at a conference in D.C. mere weeks after she'd finally packed her bags and left him. She was still Michelle, still competent, still efficient. Yet nothing about her was the same.

_Congratulations, Almeida_, he remembered thinking, almost surprised at his own bitterness, _you managed it after all_.

Ironically, his own life was finally looking up at that point. He was away from CTU, away from Los Angeles, and hoped to stay that way. Kim was content in her new, ready-made family. And Audrey made him feels things he'd long since given op on. While his friends' lives were in ruins, he'd been almost… happy.

So he supposed it was to be expected that when his luck turned, so did theirs. While he was on the run, leaving his daughter thinking him dead, they were finding each other again. Forgiving each other with a mere look.

Jack sighed. He had Michelle's blood on his hands and he knew it. If he hadn't involved them in his escape from the authorities five years ago, she would still be alive, and Tony wouldn't be the mess of a man sitting in front of him.

Jack wasn't sure if he dared to picture them – so in love with life, with their son, and with each other.

He was startled to hear the doors open, and turned to see Renee enter the room. She quietly came to stand beside him, neither of them speaking as they watched Almeida through the glass.

"Has he said anything?" Renee asked softly, her eyes never leaving the source of her hatred. Jack wasn't sure he liked this new hardness to her. He was aware he was the one who had encouraged it, but he hadn't expected it to threaten to spiral out of control so fast.

He merely shook his head. "Not much."

"I don't understand him," Renee said suddenly, "He served this country for years. How can he go from saving people to killing them… just like that?"

Jack looked at her. "Loss changes us."

She didn't answer, and Jack knew what she was thinking. Everyone on this job knows about loss. It's a way of living. You simply pick yourself up and force yourself to move forward, hoping the wounds will heal in time. Even if you know they never will. There is no other option.

It was what Jack himself had done after all. Too many times to count.

He sighed. "Renee, you have to understand… The level of commitment and loyalty Tony felt towards Michelle…" He sighed again and shook his head, "It's that kind of unconditional devotion most people only feel towards their children."

"Are you defending him?" She stared at him in disbelief. "Jack. He killed Larry."

Jack felt a sharp stab in his chest, and he nodded. He was beginning to accept that the Tony Almeida he had once known was gone. The only thing that connected his friend to the man sitting in front of him was the love they shared for a woman who was long dead. The broken man, the murderer, still loved her, but the man she had loved back just as fiercely didn't exist anymore.

"I'm just saying…" He swallowed, "It was the only thing he knew how to do."

When he caught Renee's disbelieving look he almost winced at how understanding he sounded. As if grief, no matter how great, could really justify or even excuse killing innocent people for personal revenge.

And yet, Jack hesitated. Part of him felt like he was supposed to understand. It was what Tony had figured in that warehouse, he knew. It was the only reason he could think of as to why the other man had come clean about his true intentions. The impulsive hope that maybe Jack would grasp what he was talking about.

An inexplicable guilt suddenly caught him by the throat.

At least Tony_ did _something about it. He didn't just waste away wishing for death like Jack had; he didn't just wait for revenge to be handed to him on a silver platter, in the form of a gun and a bleeding body on the floor. He'd decided he couldn't live with his wife's murderer still breathing, and stayed true to this conviction from start to finish.

You had to respect that. Even if you despised it.

Suddenly the door to in interrogation room opened and the agent who'd been questioning Tony stepped out. The door closed behind him.

"Jack." The guy looked mildly embarrassed. "Het's not talking to me. I thought maybe… I mean you guys have a personal history, maybe you could–?"

"I'm the last person he'll talk to," Jack answered bluntly.

The agent looked like he was debating whether or not to believe this statement, but Jack had never been more convinced of anything in his life.

He'd failed him. In every way a man could fail his comrade.

Jack simply said the words that had become a reflex to him over the years. "I'm sorry."

He walked out of the room.

As he closed the door behind him another scene flashed before his eyes, yet another moment from a different life. It had been a few weeks after the day of the nuclear bomb; Jack had only been back at CTU for a couple of days.

He'd reached the break room for coffee when his eyes fell on his two colleagues inside the room – one he'd known for a long time but only recently started to appreciate, and one who was still a stranger to him, despite her impressive loyalty to him that fateful day a few weeks before.

Something made him stay in the doorway, out of their sight, though even now he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. They weren't even touching. They were smiling, yes – a rarity within the walls of CTU – but that couldn't be all that had made all his senses become instantly alert.

Thinking back now, he realized with sudden clarity what it was. It was the way he looked at her.

He'd never seen Tony Almeida look at anyone like that before – not at Nina, and not at the girl with the freckles in IT he'd dated before her. It was a look of shameless abandon, a depth of passion so profound it made Jack's fists clench shut.

He stepped inside, finding a small, childish pleasure in seeing Michelle jump. She greeted him (he barely even acknowledged it) and then quietly told Tony she had to go check the logs.

Tony nodded, waiting for the clicking of her heels to fade in the hallway before glancing at him.

"How's it going, Jack?"

His nonchalance inexplicably infuriated Jack, who snapped, "What the hell was that?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, though Jack detected a flicker of surprise, then a hint of worry that was replaced by an unimpressed stare in the blink of an eye. "What?"

"You're sleeping with her!"

Tony rolled his eyes and turned to the coffee pot. "I dunno what you're–"

Jack grabbed his arm, which Tony immediately jerked free. "You are, aren't you?" Blind fury seized him. "You're _fucking_ her!"

"Watch it," Tony growled instantly, his voice low but an unmistakable menace behind his otherwise calm demeanor. Jack had crossed a line and he knew it. He'd pushed his friend too far. Denial was over.

"Tony, are you crazy?" Jack hissed, "Do you remember what happened the last time–"

"Jack." Tony held up his hand. "Save it."

"You're compromising everything and everyone in this building! Do you have any idea what–"

"Jack–"

"I won't stand by and let this happen, Tony, I refuse to–"

"I'm in love with her, you son of a bitch."

Jack was startled into silence. The two men just stared at each other, and Jack could see a determination behind the other man's eyes that he recognized all too well. He'd always considered Tony and himself polar opposites, but now he realized this wasn't all true.

"This is _your_ problem, Jack," Tony spoke quietly, "Not mine. We both know this is not about whether or not Michelle is trustworthy. And I know this is hard for you – a lot harder than for me – but I swear to God, if you hurt her over this then we're done."

When he thought of this moment now, Jack realized he should have learned then and there, once and for all, that to Tony Almeida, Michelle came first. Not only was would he put her before her career without thinking twice, he also wouldn't hesitate to turn against Jack – or anyone – if they stood in the way of what Tony thought was best for her wellbeing. After this moment Jack shouldn't have been surprised when Tony committed treason to save her, and he shouldn't have believed Tony would fight for anything anymore when she was gone – except if it had something to do with her death.

He could have avoided so much shit if he'd just taken his friend seriously in that moment.

Jack decided then and there to never make that mistake again.


End file.
